Negative Halo
by CaptainRaspberry
Summary: See the story of Halo through Covenant eyes...
1. Reveille

Chapter 1: Reveille

The sleek purple cylinder drifted through space, driven by a small engine that glowed blue behind it. It cut through the cosmos, seeming to bend and twist the reality around it to make up for its lack of finesse. Around it, bolts of blue plasma seared through space and struck the large, clunky human ship, the _Pillar of Autumn_. Its hull buckled under the stress, hairline fractures ripping through its outer hull. All the while the shiny canister inched across the star-speckled void towards its target. And its occupants grew ever itchier.

Inside the smooth vessel stood eight of the grandest assemblies in the universe, a group of aliens known as the Covenant. Two of them stood tall, towering over the other aliens at 8'6", one in a brilliant metallic blue armor with a midnight blue under suit, the other in a much duller red but equally dark jumpsuit underneath. They held in their hands a strong, fully-charged plasma rifle, polished blue, shining with beauty and grace rarely found in a human weapon. It was divided into two pill-shaped halves, held together by a curved surface of metal, with only a trigger to interrupt the smoothened surface. Behind the two Elites stood the six other aliens, stubby and comical, standing only about 5' and clutching their plasma pistols in fright.

Oriné 'Fulsamee was the blue-armored Elite, and he chuckled to himself. He had trained his whole life for combat, having been in five battles with the humans. Their leaders, the great Prophets, had formed the Covenant from different species for one purpose: the crusade to wipe out the existence of humanity, for it offended the Gods. And the young but powerful warrior was prepared to give his life for just that purpose. The other Elite, his senior officer, tapped him on the shoulder and motioned behind them at the frightened little Grunts. They shared a chuckle, stopping when they heard human-fire whiz past their craft.

_That was close,_ Oriné thought, wiping his brow. He flexed his jaws, opening and closing them in anticipation. He had four of them, like his entire race. Two were placed where a human's lower jaw would be. The other two were on the side, ready to crush anything that he got into his mouth. All were powerful, and easily tore through food that other alien races found tough and inedible. He took another look at the Grunts that stood behind them. They wore large, bulky armor suits, the back rising up into a spike to house the cold generator. A small mask ran from the spike to a mask located on the front snout of the creatures. They came from a frigid planet, and thusly, they could only breathe frigid air. The two directly behind Oriné and the Major were dressed in red armor, but the four behind them were in dirty orange armor, armor that had seen many battles and wearers.

Suddenly the capsule lurched, signaling connection with the target. Oriné tensed up, bringing his plasma rifle higher up to his chest. A small computer panel right in front of the Major bleeped and began processing human code, flashing alien symbols on the screen. It continued to beep and flash until there was a pinging sound, and a set of numbers on the panel flashed green. A panel in the front slid out of the way, revealing an air-lock door. That too yielded, and another door, this one of human design, obstructed them. It slid open in confirmation of the code, and bared the interior of the human ship to their wielded weapons.

"Move!" shouted the Major, stepping out in front of the main group and taking the lead. No sooner had he poked the majority of his upper body out the opening than gun fire erupted at the opening, a bullet grazing him across the chest. Sharp waves flickered across his suit, and he grunted in discomfort. He motioned them back, putting them back in the cramped Covenant shuttle.

"Okay, so they were expecting us," he said, rubbing the area that the bullet had gone across. "No big deal. Rurut, do you have those grenades?" A small orange-armored Grunt nodded vigorously and withdrew a small rounded device. It was slightly hemispherical, but much more squashed. It was polished silver, with a small blue line running down the center. The Major nodded and grabbed the device. With a slight squeeze, the line turned orange and the device flared blue, the azure flame licking the air. The Elite pulled back and threw the device into the hall, bouncing it off the far wall and straight into the position of the human Marines. One screamed a warning, and then a large blue explosion erupted, the screams of the creatures being cut short by their own deaths.

Oriné smiled. He loved his job.

They stormed out of the pod, sweeping their guns around the hall and making sure everything was clear. They heard a hissing sound from the airlock door next to them, and turned to see fellow Covenant walk out. Two Minor Elites and six Minor Grunts stepped onto the ship, and one of the Elites took a whiff of the air and snorted.

"Human air is filthy," he said, "It is no wonder that they must be exterminated!"

One of the Grunts snorted. "Yeah. No methane! How can you stand it?" The other Grunts nodded, but the Elites paid no heed.

"We have a mission to accomplish," the Major said, bringing his rifle up. The rest of the troops readied their weapons and made sure they carried a full pack of grenades. "We must find a certain human, one who is top-notch in fighting. He is responsible for the deaths of possibly a thousand of our warriors, and reports say that he is on this ship."

Several of them were taken aback. Thousands? How was that so? The Major continued: "He wears a special armor that can withstand our fire for a period of time, so we must be quick. If he is asleep, do not hesitate to fire: he won't if he wakes up. Are we ready?" Oriné and his fellow Elites bellowed, and a few of the Grunts raised their guns triumphantly, but most of them shivered. Why did they get the feeling that most of them wouldn't have the chance to celebrate a victory?

* * *

On the bridge of the _Pillar of Autumn_, Captain Jacob Keyes eyed the tactical data on the large screen before him carefully. Reports were flying through the bridge like lightning, buzzing those who gave and received them, but Keyes was impervious to such matters at the moment. He was studying the peculiar ring structure: they had made a jump from Reach, and somehow or another ended up here. The Captain didn't believe in fate, but he knew that there must've been a higher power at work.

"Cortana," he said calmly, and the figure of a woman, purple with data streams running across her body, appeared.

"Yes, Captain?" she asked, knowing full well what he wanted.

He sighed, but didn't take his eyes from the view screen. "Awaken our 'guest' and get him ready for battle. It's time we started winning." Cortana nodded and data flew across her holographic form.

"He's already waking up."

* * *

It didn't take long for Oriné's group to run into more human resistance. The firefight was brutal, and already two of the Grunts were dead, one of them from a gaping chest wound and the other from a small puncture through his head. But Oriné couldn't worry about them; he kept the rate of fire on his plasma rifle up but not so much to overheat it.

Finally, as the last Marine fell, the hall was clear and the group of 14 remaining soldiers continued their bloody march. Oriné was well-versed in the human language, and could easily read the signs painted on the floor and walls that gave away the directions to the cryo-bay. As they approached, the Marines seemed to fight harder, but the Covenant continued to prevail.

After what seemed like a weeks search, they arrived in Cryo-2, the rumored location of the human with the special armor. However, upon arrival, they found the pod open and empty. The Major did his best to hide his rage and frustration but the younger Elite could easily detect the strains on his mind. Oriné circled around the bay, careful of any traps, while everyone but the Major left the room and fanned out to help their comrades in eradicating the humans.

Suddenly, the Major stood upright and withdrew his plasma rifle. He felt as if something was staring right at his neck, something up high. He turned around and got an eyeful of his objective: the human, dressed in a special armor, stood in the observation deck of Cryo-2, staring down through his mirrored visor, seeming to mock the Elite.

The crimson-armored Elite shouted in rage and fired a few shots at the window. The human didn't even flinch as the plasma splashed against the viewport, made of some strange material, and just turned and ran out the opposite door.

"We have to kill him!" The Elite yelled, and took off out the door. Oriné tried to follow, but the adrenaline motivating his commanding officer was too much. As he stumbled out into the hallway, he met with the sight of his two fellow Minor Elites and seven slightly confused Grunts.

"What's with him?" Rurut squeaked, staring down the passage that the Major obviously left through.

"The objective," Oriné growled in response. "He saw the objective, and is planning to cut him off before the human can escape." The team exchanged glances, and were about to follow when they heard a shout from behind them. They turned around to find another Major beckoning to them.

"We have to pull back! This ship might explode soon!" As if to enforce that fact, the panels behind them exploded in a shower of flames and sparks, causing the door to automatically lock it down. Without any way to follow their commander, they followed the Major and found a Covenant insertion-craft still docked. They piled inside and punched in the codes to return to a Covenant cruiser. The door ahead closed and they felt the force of the small vessel being jettisoned from the human ship.

The Elites and Grunts breathed a collective sigh of relief, and awaited the return to the ship.

* * *

The Major and the Grunts awaited the human in a corridor with two of the human life-pods left. They had been attacked by Marines, and were in the middle of fending them off when they heard a tell-tale click behind them. The Elite turned to see a fragmentation grenade land at his feet. He was able to avoid the brunt of the explosion, but his shields were gone. He turned around to see the Grunts he had taken with him spread over the corridor. Boiling with rage he turned to fire in the direction that the grenade was thrown from.

He only got a short look at his objective before the 7.62 mm armor-piercing shells sailed through his helmet and head, splattering his blood and brains against the far wall. As the cold metal passed through the other side of his skull, he had a moment of enlightenment: he wouldn't win.

The Elite's body crashed to the floor with surprising intensity, and the Master Chief paused only a second to admire his handiwork. Then he hopped over the barricade and made a mad dash for the last life-pod, helping a wounded Marine in as he went. A few seconds later, the craft was gone and rocketing towards the ring-world.


	2. Halo

Chapter 2: Halo

The Covenant dropship passed through the ring's atmosphere without problems and began to slow its descent to allow for gravity's control. It maneuvered towards a small structure made out of a metallic stone-work that the Covenant hadn't recognized when they originally found this strange derelict habitat. Two large prongs, closely resembling those on the dropship, extended skyward. They too were made out of the peculiar material.

With a low, throbbing hum, the ship hovered above the ground and opened up its doors. Oriné 'Fulsamee, along with his entire surviving squad, stepped out onto the grass of the ground. He looked around and took in the sight: the structure was surrounded by solid fir trees, sturdy boulders, and a large, lush field that extended for more than a hundred of the human's kilometers, ending in a swooping mountain line. Covenant soldiers scurried about, bringing supplies, weapons, and medical equipment to and from dropships.

The Elite closest to him, his friend known as Yarna 'Orgalmee, took a large whiff of this air and exhaled happily. "This air," he said, "Is fine air."

Their conversation was interrupted by the rhythmic _thump, thump_ of boots on grass. They turned and met the gaze of the gold-armored Elite. The color was meant to instantly reveal the rank of Commander, and he had an impassive look on his face. The three Elites raised their hands in the respectful greeting of a superior, and the Grunts scattered. The Commander returned the salute, and walked straight up to Oriné.

"Are you the son of Ship Master Orita 'Fulsamee?" The golden warrior asked gruffly.

"Yes, Excellency," Oriné replied calmly.

The Commander eyed the younger Elite thoughtfully, and then grunted in satisfaction. "You and your squad are to take a rest of three units, then report to me on the balcony. What is the status of your Major?"

The blue-clad Elite clicked his lower mandibles together. "We presume he has been killed, Excellency. He left us to pursue his objective, Excellency." The Commander snorted, then waved them away. Oriné signaled to his teammates and walked into the structure for some rest.

* * *

At the pre-ordained time and place, Oriné walked up to the golden-clad Commander. He saluted again, and received the same.

"At ease," the Elite said, and Oriné did so. He knew that rank meant everything and that if he were that high in level, he would also demand the same compliance. The Commander nodded, and then turned to face the field.

"More humans made it out than we had anticipated, and they are now scattered throughout Halo," the Elite started. "Our forces are currently finding them and executing them as we see fit, and we have captured their Ship Master. All seems well.

"However, we have received reports of a human clad in a special armor, one of the many we've seen at the major victories of the humans'. Your objective was to find and kill that human on that ship. What went wrong?"

Oriné didn't know how to answer. What could he say? They had done everything according to the briefing they had received before they left. He finally spoke: "I believe the problem was that they were more willing to use him than we expected. Our plan depended on the fact that they would only use him as a last-ditch effort, and they obviously didn't consider him that."

The Commander once again nodded in approval, turning to face the young warrior. "Very wise of you to notice, warrior. Very wise indeed. Your father must have taught you a great deal…"

"He taught me much before I went to the academy, Excellency."

The Commander grunted and turned to face the setting sun. "Yes, I can tell. I suppose it would interest you to know of the humans' progress?"

Oriné was taken by surprise. A Commander was offering him intelligence? Was there a plan that involved him and his squad? He finally managed, "It would interest me greatly, Excellency."

The Commander inhaled audibly before beginning. "Their rate of advance has startled us somewhat, but it is to be expected. Not long after their ship began to head for Halo, our scouts reported that a number of them had already made it to the surface and were regrouping. A small group of them took one of our bases in Sector 43, and we can only assume that they intend to use that as a headquarters.

"They have already managed to rescue most of their people and organize themselves. We have no idea what to expect at the moment, but we presume they can be beaten down.

"During the battle in space, one of our cruisers took a beating. It has landed for repairs, and we need all the help we can get putting it back together. Your unit will travel to the site and assist with repairs. Understood?" Oriné had somehow gotten lost as to the fact that what was originally an intel report turned into a briefing, but he knew the objective all the same.

"Yes, Excellency." The blue Elite said as the light faded from the sky.

"Good. Assemble your team and be ready to move out. Night will be here soon."

* * *

The dropship gently soared through the night, the planet the humans referred to as Threshold illuminating the ground with a creepy, orange glow. Inside, Oriné considered what his options were: a commander was getting friendly with him, and that could easily lead to a promotion to Major. Rurut, the Grunt in the next deployment cell, jittered nervously.

"What' wrong now?" Oriné asked with evident exhaustion. The three-unit rest didn't seem that great anymore.

"I've got a bad feeling," the little Grunt whimpered. "I just keep thinking… something horrible is gonna happen… or already has."

The all-ship intercom crackled to life as the pilot Elite opened up the channel. "We've just received word from the _Truth and Reconciliation_. It was attacked!" It took a moment for the comment to settle in before all the units broke into chatter. The dropship was full of his fellow squad, plus four Jackals, small almost bird-like aliens that utilized external shielding units for protection.

"I'm taking her in," the pilot said again. "But it looks like the docking bay is in serious disrepair. We'll have to land on the surface and use the gravity lift to get in." The ship swerved and hovered for a moment before dropping a few meters and opening up the doors.

As the team stepped out, they got a good look at the carnage. Blood from Elites, Jackals, and Grunts alike were mixed and spread all over the terrain. Rocks served as places for bodies to slump against and quietly bleed to death. A recovery team was already there, piling up bodies into anti-grav carts and hauling them away to be buried.

"Look at that!" Yarna exclaimed, pointing down the small cliff face at the gravity lift, where a team of Grunts struggled to lift a dead Hunter from the pad and another was dis-armoring another Hunter corpse to allow for easier carrying. Everyone's eyes were wide open as they moved down the trail to the lift.

By the time they reached the lift, the Jackals of the unit had broken off to mourn the loss of a personal friend they knew. Oriné and Yarna were approached by a Spec Ops Grunt, who held out his hand as if to stop them.

"Alright, who're you and why do you think you have access to this site?" the little form babbled. At first, Oriné was overcome by a feeling to smack the little Grunt upside the head for trying to pull rank, but thought better of it after noticing the black armor.

"We were sent by Commander 'Quarmee," Oriné said. "He said you needed help with repairs, but we never…"

The Grunt cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Okay, that's enough. Go on ahead, but if you have a weak stomach, stay behind." Several of the Grunts cowered back, only Rurut and a Major Grunt stepped up behind them. They moved onto the lift, and felt like invisible hands were pulling them up into the belly of the ship.

Once inside, they were greeted by yet more violent scenes. The blood of all races of the Covenant, except Prophets of course, smeared the walls, floors, and even the ceilings. Down one hall were two more Hunters, one collapsed on a puddle of his own blood, the other nailed to the wall by the throat with one of his spikes.

The Major Grunt tried to take a step, but slipped on a large number of shell casings. Oriné picked one up and examined it, figuring it was from one of the human assault rifles. More were scattered about the cargo bay, ranging from sniper rifle to pistol. Several cargo modules were burst open, many of the ones carrying plasma grenades spilled out and looted. Another clean-up team was hauling bodies away, among which stealth Elites were present. As they proceeded through the halls, they found more evidence of a great battle. In one cargo bay they found two Wraith tanks exploded, and the shrapnel from said tanks embedded in wall conduits and fellow Covenant warriors.

Finally they made their way to the docking bay that the pilot said was too damaged to land in, and they found out why. Plasma scoring ravaged the walls, bullets pock-marked the floor and ceiling, dead comrades hung over the edges of railings and ledges, their blood making temporary waterfalls. Entire sections of floor had been utterly annihilated from what looked like cargo modules loaded with grenades exploding. On the highest level, Oriné could see what looked like a Covenant dropship having crashed into the side, and then flown away. A tell-tale drop of orange blood dropped from the top, and the Major Grunt couldn't suppress a nervous yelp any longer. And that was just one side!

The other didn't look much better, and there seemed to be more casualties. None of the bodies had been dragged away, so one could see exactly who died and in what manner. Jackals, Grunts, and the occasional Elite were strewn about, slumping against modules, walls, and even missing body parts. Another tank lay in ruin, and next to it a Hunter's body, its back peppered with bullets. On the far side of the room was its bond brother, dead and then cut in half by the closing of a door, its entrails hanging out messily. The Major burst out into sobbing, and Rurut comforted him.

"It's horrible, isn't it?" An Elite from one of the clean-up crews walked up to them, dressed in the white armor of his division. "They were attacked with devastating force by a human strike team. I'm not sure how they got through all the defenses, but they did, and rescued their Ship Master."

Oriné couldn't say anything. The Elite went on: "These were special forces, I'd imagine. They even managed to take out this ship's Ship Master while he was on the bridge! A Spec Ops team is looking into the whole incident, but there's no better explanation than the fact that humans got in and killed just about everyone who stood in their way."

The younger warrior managed to look up at the upper levels, and met the eyes of a Spec Op Elite, who turned and walked away to take care of business elsewhere.

"I have to get back to work," said the white-clad Elite and then he strode away.


	3. Special Operations

Chapter 3: Special Operations

The rest of the night and most of the following day had been harrowing indeed. They were recruited by the new acting commander of the ship to conduct thorough deck-to-deck searches of the entire ship, checking every hold and room they could find for humans still aboard. The search turned up negative, but the Covenant was still on full alert all the same.

Oriné 'Fulsamee managed to scarf a quick ration and catch a couple units of sleep before being called into the acting commander's makeshift office. It was the same officer that ordered the ship-wide search: a Spec Ops Elite named Ionill 'Ongyomee, a hard-core ruthless soldier with a kill record that rivaled that of the human with the special armor. It was also the same one that met Oriné's eyes earlier.

As Oriné entered, he was taken aback at the room's condition: it was a heavily-damaged area, with loose plasma conduits sparking from behind loose wall grating, and only a small table in the center. No chairs, no comforts. 'Ongyomee stood behind the desk, directly facing the incoming warrior. They made the respectable salutes, and the Spec Ops warrior began to speak:

"Oriné 'Fulsamee, Minor Warrior, son of Ship Master Orita 'Fulsamee. Proficient with Banshees and Ghosts, well-versed in the human language, impressive combat records with six mostly successful missions; no serious wounding to date." The Elite maintained eye contact, and Oriné wasn't able to break it. "You do have an impressive record. But how does it look up to _this?_" The black-clad Elite pulled out a plasma pistol, over-charged, and opened fire directly at the young warrior. Oriné dodged to the side, instinctively pulling out his own sidearm and shooting 'Ongyomee's own pistol out of his hand before he realized what happened.

As the blue Elite opened his mouth to apologize, the more experienced warrior stopped him with a wave of his hand. "It was a test," he said, reaching down and picking up his own pistol. "One which you passed. Congratulations: you're on the team."

It took a moment for the words to sink in. "What team, Excellency?"

"My new team," 'Ongyomee said, placing the now-ruined weapon on the table. "It is being created under the supervision of the Command Council. We know Halo harbors the capacity to annihilate the human race and finally cleanse the galaxy of their filthy smells and annoying habits, but even the Prophets do not know how or in what form this weapon exists. So, with their blessings, I opted to create a top-notch team that will find the weapon, secure it, and bring it to the Prophets."

Oriné was speechless. He had just been chosen for a special place of honor! But he needed to know more. "Who else will be on this team?" he hazarded, trying to win the respect of this Elite like he had the Commander.

'Ongyomee clicked his lower mandibles together, the Covenant equivalent of a shrug. "Who else do you think is qualified?"

Oriné couldn't come up with any answer at first, then he remembered a possible candidate. "I'd recommend Rurut, a Grunt in my unit. He survived the battle aboard the human ship without a scratch. And Yarna too. He received the same training that I did." He waited nervously as 'Ongyomee drummed his fingers on the table in thought.

"I suppose they would work. I'll see what I can do," the black-clad Elite finally responded. "Dismissed." They saluted each other, and Oriné turned to leave when 'Ongyomee spoke again. "By the way, training will begin in 48 units. I suggest you come prepared." Oriné turned and nodded in response before strolling out the door, his footsteps eager yet slowed.


	4. Capture the Flag

Chapter 4: Capture the Flag

The days passed all too quickly for Oriné 'Fulsamee's taste and he soon found himself on his way to the gravity lift chamber in early morning. But he was to be bestowed with a great honor. So why did he feel so… wrong? He had been selected for an assignment personally crafted and blessed by the Council of Elders. It was an opportunity most of his race could only wonder about, and he was a part of the dreams all young warriors, his age or younger, that wanted this. But why didn't it feel right? He quickly dismissed the emotions as he entered the gravity lift chamber, tugging at the uncomfortable black armor that adorned his body. There, awaiting his arrival on the pad, were five other Covenant warriors, four Grunts and one Elite, and all of them in the same colored armor that he bore.

The young Elite instantly recognized his two comrades: Yarna, the only other Elite that he could see, and Rurut. They turned their heads and saw him, but suppressed any emotion they might have had; Oriné didn't understand at first, but as he followed the three other Grunts' gaze, he saw Ionill 'Ongyomee, who had also seen the warrior enter. He looked at his portable time device and nodded.

"Right on time," he said wistfully. "Take your place." Oriné complied by taking a spot between his two unit brothers. There was a rough, scratchy sound from 'Ongyomee, the Elite-equivalent of clearing one's throat.

"You have all been briefed on this moment," the Elite said, pacing back and forth along the neatly-assembled line of new recruits. "But you have no idea who each of you is. So, we will start by announcing our names, previous ranks, and specialties. Starting at this end."

The black armored Grunt at the end cleared coughed slightly before speaking. "Ononn, Major, specializing in hacking computer systems."

The next Grunt, Rurut, spoke up. "Rurut, Minor, specializing in sniping."

Oriné was next. He inhaled silently and spoke. "Oriné 'Fulsamee, Minor, specializing in the humans' languages and cultures, proficient with our own vehicles." A great deal of tension left his body. He felt himself relax, and perhaps it was evident as the two Grunts that hadn't spoken yet sniggered.

"Yarna 'Orgalmee, Minor, specializing in heavy artillery." Oriné turned his eyes to his friend, who did the same and winked.

"Ofoff, Major, specializing in explosives, brother of Ononn." The next Grunt in line said.

"Gagaw, Minor, specializing in tactics." The final Grunt finished his brief auto-biography and 'Ongyomee nodded, his eyes closed in a sagely manner. Oriné knew what he was up to; he was trying to remember the descriptions, just in case a eulogy was needed later.

"Good. Very good," their new leader said, opening his eyes and continuing his pacing. "I'm sure you all noticed the different ranks that we held in the past. Well, that was the past. Now, you are all of equal rank, a rank of honor, of pride, of dignity. Abandon your previous unit families and your bonds to them. This is your new family, and you must understand and operate together. That means referring to each other by your first or only name. No last names.

"Now I'm sure you're all very eager to begin. Well, the training exercise is a simple one." 'Ongyomee pulled out two fist-sized cubes, one shining red and the other a brilliant blue. "We're going to play a game. It's what the humans call: 'Capture the Flag.'"

* * *

Meanwhile, two UNSC drop ships soared over one of Halo's oceans. Each was loaded to maximum capacity with marines, but one carried a stranger: a green-armored soldier sat near the deployment doors, holding his assault rifle firmly in his hands. His face was hidden by an orange-tinted mirror-glass visor, and behind that was a face solid as stone, a will tough as iron and a mind hardened by war.

Also within his helmet was a single AI construct, plugged in via one of two sockets located on either side in the back. Cortana was her name, a ship's AI hidden from the Covenant in this elite super-soldier. And she was happily sifting through the Covenant battle-net, monitoring transmissions and such when she picked up a transmission from a newly-formed special operations group. Normally this was nothing special, as many of these were searching for something, some weapon. However, this one was a little bit different.

"Chief," she said through the helmet's inner speakers, "Listen to this." She patched it through, ignoring all the other chatter. "It sounds like they're…"

The Master Chief listened intently for a few moments before replying in a steely, emotionless voice. "It sounds like they're playing a game."

* * *

The ground had been totally cleaned out since Oriné's initial visit after the infiltration cleverly put together to rescue the human's Ship Master. No bodies or stains of blood remained, but at the bottom of the gravity lift a beautifully constructed memorial served as a reminder to the battle, and to honor those that died. Before beginning the exercise, the entire group spent a moment mourning the loss of their brethren.

Of course, by now the exercise was well underway, with a tie score between the teams of 4 to 4. 'Ongyomee was not part of the training, therefore making it an even split of 3-on-3 teams. Oriné, Gagaw, and Ofoff made up Team Blue, and Yarna, Rurut, and Ononn made up Team Red. Each had to protect their team color's cube while trying to capture their enemies' cube. Team Blue set up their base in the area of the gravity lift while Team Red set up farther down, the other end of the valley. Five wide open areas, including the two bases, made up most of the ravine. The three that weren't headquarters were considered neutral territory and anyone could tag anybody else out in those areas. In the base areas, however, only the defending team could tag people out.

Oriné open and closed his side mandibles, the Elite's way of smiling. His team was on the offensive, and that was his favorite part. He snuck through the first section of neutral territory without encountering any of the opposing team, but as he rounded the narrow cliff edge he caught sight of Ononn. He quickly darted behind a rock, followed closely by his teammates. He motioned to the lone enemy Grunt, and his comrades nodded. Ofoff moved backwards until he was around the bend. Then he came running out, stopping not far ahead of the rock the two other Covenant were hiding behind. He let out a shocked yelp, and turned and ran, arms flailing, back around the bend. Ononn said something along the lines of, "Aha!" before taking off after his brother. But as he neared the rock, Oriné and Gagaw jumped out from behind the boulder and double-teamed him, bringing him down with a couple of instantaneous tags. Ononn muttered something in his own language and then lied down to symbolize the fact that he was tagged. Ofoff rejoined them and they moved on.

They got through the third neutral area without a hitch, reaching Team Red's base. Gagaw eyed it thoughtfully before withdrawing back to his two teammates.

"They changed their formation, but there's still an open spot. I'm sure that they won't fall for the drawing-off trick like Ononn did, so we'll need to be a major distraction." The Grunt finished briefing them, and Oriné moved up for a peek. He came back, the gears in his head turning rapidly.

"Okay, you two should rush in there and make a dash for the cube, but when they advance on you take off in different directions. That should draw them off, but keep them away from the wall on the right! I'll sneak through the underbrush along there and grab the cube. When the alarm goes off, we run back to base with our prize!" The two Grunts nodded and ran out into the open, following the plan. Yarna and Rurut were distracted, like the plan said, and began to chase the two Grunts around. Oriné saw his opening and made a break for a bush. He successfully ducked behind it before Yarna looked his way, shrugged, and restarted the chase of Ofoff. Oriné started moving towards the cube, ducking every time it looked like one of them would spot him, then continuing on his way.

Finally, the cover ended and he burst out, clearing the distance with a long jump, and landing in front of the cube. He picked it up, and it began making its audible alarm. Just as he started the sprint back to home base, the cube shut up and shut down, the color fading from it. Before he could even utter a confused growl, 'Ongyomee's voice crackled through everyone's helmets.

"Everyone, report back to the ship," the Elite said, "We've found the weapon!"

* * *

The group sat in one of the _Truth and Reconciliation_'s many briefing rooms. Its walls were purple and shone at different angles of light. Each chair was specially designed for each alien species lined a long table. There were eight in all, one of them was empty. A small hologram emitter embedded in the center of the table displayed a schematic of Halo. The hologram of the ring shimmered different colors as 'Ongyomee spoke.

"It turns out there are multiple areas where the weapon is stored," he began. "I've highlighted where the 'depots' are in every sector. Recently, a team of our computer technicians cracked the Forerunner's access codes to the ring's mainframe. Most of it remains locked behind more complicated pass codes, but they managed to find the entranceways to a series of tunnels that run beneath Halo's surface.

"Most of our forces have been pulled from their positions to move into the tunnels. Our scientists are led to believe that the tunnels contain safety locks which, once deactivated, should unlock the controls and mechanisms for the weapon itself. And with that we can crush the humans once and for all!" There was a series of approving murmurs and an enthusiastic shout or two, but something didn't feel right. Hearing of these tunnels and all the guesses their science-driven superiors had to make awoke a nameless fear in all of their hearts.

"We will be meeting up with a couple platoons of regular soldiers at this point," 'Ongyomee continued, enlarging a portion of the ring where a red dot flashed insistently. Oriné, Yarna, and Rurut recognized the area as the base they had been staying at before being called to the _Truth and Reconciliation_. "This area is human-secure, but right on the border .We don't know what security systems we might find below the surface, so it is imperative that we have enough firepower backing us up."

'Ongyomee moved his watchful eyes across his entire squad. They all seemed to listen intently to what he had to say. He gave himself an inward smile. He was proud of them, despite only having the unit for a couple of days. When he had been monitoring their progress in Capture the Flag, he knew they were the right team for the job. "Alright, any questions?" He asked, and seeing no response, added, "Then off to the armory!"

The group poured out into the hallway, moving quickly and with purpose through the maze of passages. Soon they arrived in another room not so different from the others. The design, color, and layout of the walls were the same, but the room itself was larger than normal. The walls were decorated by assortments of plasma rifles, plasma pistols, energy packs, and plasma grenades. In the middle of the room were three boxes and a table.

Oriné, Yarna, Rurut, Ononn, Ofoff, and Gagaw fell into line behind 'Ongyomee, who walked up to the table and lifted one of the boxes onto it.

"Oriné, Yarna, take a plasma rifle, plasma pistol and a few energy packs each from the wall over there," the commanding Elite ordered as he threw the latches on the mod and opening it. "Ononn, Gagaw, take these," he said, pulling out a couple of Needlers and some clips and handing them to the Grunts. As the other two Elites snapped the pistols into holsters on their legs and removed rifles from their securing magnets, 'Ongyomee shut the lid and placed the box back on the floor before grabbing another and lifting it onto the table. This one was marked, "Danger! Heavy Artillery Weapons! DO NOT USE without authorization." He typed in an access code and the box hissed and opened. The black-clad Elite beckoned to the weaponless Grunts.

"Be careful with these," he said, lifting a large weapon out of the container. It was a dark blue, a little taller than a Grunt if you stood it on its end, and bearing resemblance to a plasma rifle. On the top was a set of prongs that reached up at an angle from the rear of the weapon, then plunged straight back down into it. They held in place four neon-green, glowing canisters that acted as the weapons recharging nodes. On the bottom was a handle and the trigger, moved forward enough to allow a space to rest on the shoulder when firing. "These are Fuel Rod Guns. Overheat faster than rifles do under sustained fire, but they might come in handy."

He handed it to Rurut, who graciously accepted it, teetered dangerously far back but managed to regain his balance. He waddled out of the way as 'Ongyomee withdrew a second and gave it to Ofoff. Then he gave two packs of four green canisters to each Grunt and shut the box. The commanding officer continued on to the wall, withdrawing a plasma rifle, pistol, and some energy packs. Then the entire unit proceeded to withdraw four plasma grenades each, and the Grunts armed with Needlers each carried a side-bag that held eight more.

"We're ready," said 'Ongyomee, brandishing his plasma rifle. "Let's go recover that weapon." The group let out enthusiastic shouts and moved out of the armory, heading down a short passage to the docking bay. They entered just as a drop ship left the loading area to their right, but one waited calmly to their left. They all hopped aboard, settled into the personnel slots, and found themselves in the company of three Jackals on their way to the same location, one a Major and two Minors. With maximum capacity reached, the pilot in the front shut the loading doors and flew out of the bay. Moments later, two more drop ships entered the same bay to load up.


	5. Descent

Chapter 5: Descent

It was still daylight when Ionill 'Ongyamee's unit plus three Jackals touched down in an open field near the Forerunner structure. The first thing that occurred to Oriné 'Fulsamee when the doors opened up was that their initial assumptions were wrong: the humans were there and fighting the Covenant forces already present. The second thing was that he was on the side exposed to the combat. Soon after that thought, Assault Rifle bullets erupted against his side of the carrier, ripping across the personnel slots open to the fighting. His shields rippled and absorbed the damage, but he was the only Elite on this side. Fortunately, the three of his unit brothers to his left on this side were angled away from the combat, so they weren't getting hit. However, he couldn't say that about the Jackal to his right. Without his portable shield up, he was defenseless and was quickly cut down by the 7.62 mm shells shredding his flesh.

The drop ship hit the ground and released the personnel slots, and nine of the ten original warriors within hit the ground on their feet. The dead Jackal, however, tumbled out of the carrier and hit the grass with a sickening thud. With that as their cue, Oriné, Gagaw, Ofoff, and Ononn immediately made us of the shelter formed of a line of boulders to their right. Ducking down, they waited for their three comrades to catch up. Not even two seconds later, Yarna, Rurut, and 'Ongyamee jumped behind the stack of rocks as well.

They heard a plasma grenade explode off in the distance, and the fire lessened. Seizing their opportunity, they used their time to make it to the structure's ramp downwind of the fire before it got heavy again. Running up to the top, the four Grunts broke from the main group. Ofoff and Rurut moved to the opposite ramp so they could lend the punch of their Fuel Rod Guns to the fight while Ononn and Gagaw moved to the edge and began using their Needlers and grenades to rain all hell down on the Marines. The three Elites saw two Commanders, one of them holding a monocular and the other shouting orders to a flock of Jackals on the ground. The monocular belonged to Field Master Noga 'Putumee, well known for his bravery and leadership in the field, also famous for his blunt, confrontational, and paranoid ways in the field. The other gold armored Elite was Field Master Ignil 'Quarmee, the same Commander that seemed to favor Oriné.

'Ongyomee walked up behind 'Putumee and looked over the fight. Plasma and tracer bullets flew across the scene, Covenant and humans dropping alike. "Wonderful weather we're having isn't it, Excellency?" the black-clad Elite said monotonously. The Field Master lowered his monocular but didn't turn to face him.

"Yes, quite," he said, also monotonous. "These humans surprised us, you know. They must've followed some of our drop ships. Certainly were enough," 'Putumee said and raised his monocular again. "Ah, I see the last of my carriers is arriving. Good," he added, and then picked up a transmitter. "Put down behind the humans' lines. You should be able to flank them." He spoke into it and the drop ship altered course.

"Yes, Excellency," came the reply as the ship dropped behind a forest, leaving 'Putumee's sight. Oriné peered over the edge to see the battle below, and watched for a few seconds as a couple of fragmentation grenades exploded within a tightly-packed group of Jackals. He withdrew back to Field Master 'Quarmee.

"It was in my briefing that there were to be three platoons," he said. "I count only two. Where is the third one?"

"They went below ahead of the rest of us. They got here first, before the humans jumped us. I'd expect them to have already gotten through the locked doors by now, but we still haven't received a transmission from them." The Elite spared a glance at Oriné before returning his attention to the battle. "Look at you. One of the Prophet's Blessed Ones! Your father must be very proud."

"I haven't heard from him lately," replied the young warrior, "He's a busy Ship Master, but-" A Major Elite bounded up the ramp, making a mad dash for the small weapons cache placed on top of the structure, but he never made it. A vapor trail crossed Oriné's line of sight and dug into the Elite's knee, which buckled under the sudden stress and brought the entire creature down. Another vapor trail tore across the sky and firmly planted itself in its head. A puddle of blood began forming under the body.

"Snipers!" Yarna yelled as the five Elites jumped backwards behind cover from the direction of 14.5 mm slug fire.

'Putumee cursed and brought his transmitter up to his mouth. "We have snipers! I repeat snipers at Point L52-9A9-B19!" Oriné could see the fire shift from one area to the one the Field Master just specified.

'Quarmee narrowed his eyes in frustration at the battle. "Dammit! Why are these humans giving us so much trouble?"

* * *

Gagaw had been shooting at the Marines from his perch on the structure's edge. At heart, he was a coward. A conniving, occasionally-backstabbing coward, but he knew the battle was theirs. With the recent addition of Rurut's and Ofoff's Fuel Rod Guns, the humans were being cut down. He turned the business end of his Needler to the coordinates given by Field Master 'Putumee and began firing when he heard clicking sounds.

He turned to see three smoky flashes and then thick, puffy smoke trails racing towards his position. He barely had time to think "rocket launchers" before they impacted. They missed their mark by a good human foot, striking the underside of the overhang Gagaw was standing on. But this particular area had been taking a lot of abuse, and the metal-stone alloy beneath him shattered. He plummeted a few meters before landing on a Jackal methane-rig first. The pointed end impaled the foot soldier and broke the Grunt's fall. He played dead for a little while until he was sure that no one was paying any attention to him. Then, with visible effort, he flipped himself over and right-side up.

Suddenly, a realization hit him: he was out in the open during a heated battle! That thought triggered the panic he had been saving up since he first saw gunfire and he ran towards his Covenant brothers, arms flailing and screaming like a maniac. An Elite's shoulder exploded from a sniper round right next to Gagaw's head, and that caused even more shouting from the frightened little soldier. He dove behind the outer walls of a mini-structure just as a rocket hit the spot where he just was.

Gagaw gasped for breath, wished he could adjust the output level of his methane rig, and opened his eyes to see a dead Grunt slumped against the opposite wall, blood splattered and smeared down to the body. A large transmission system was hooked up to the Grunt's methane rig. As if that wasn't enough, suddenly four Hunters came crashing out of the door of the small building the walls penned in. As they stomped by him, heavy blue armor crashing against the ground and spikes bouncing, one gave him an intimidating look before rejoining his Bond Brother up ahead. Gagaw's mind couldn't figure out what to think for a while.

* * *

"Hunters?" Oriné exclaimed as he stood on the edge, watching the big blue monstrosities stomp all over Jackals and Grunts on their way to the human's lines. 'Putumee nodded.

"They were our 'ace-in-the-hole', as the humans say," the Field Master practically spat out the last part. "We didn't want to risk putting them in early for fear of losing them. During the initial rocket attack from the woods, two were killed. Fortunately they were both Bond Brothers, so it doesn't affect the performance of the others." Oriné nodded sagely. He understood the importance of Bond Brotherhood: Hunters relied on that for strength, and they were rarely seen apart. In fact, the blue armored behemoths never seemed to have more than a human mile between one and his Brother. If one fell in battle, the other would rage out of control and kill all the enemies ten times over. But after it was all said and done, the surviving one would lose its will to live, possibly even committing suicide to join his Bond Brother.

As Oriné watched the massive shields bash humans and the built-in Fuel Rod Guns cut down the remaining Marines, he turned his attention to the rest of the Covenant diving for cover. They still had the majority of the two platoons left; the humans had been unsuccessful in their attempts to completely wipe them out. But there were an alarming number of dead strewn about. Then he looked for the rest of his team. He could see all but Gagaw, and all that remained of his vantage point was a large chunk taken out of the Forerunner's structure. The Elite bowed his head in mourning.

Suddenly, a cry of anguish echoed across the battlefield. The son of the Ship Master looked up and saw a Hunter lying dead on the ground, from sniper or rocket launcher he couldn't tell, but the deceased's Bond Brother began to rage and rush into human lines. There was a massive amount of Assault Rifle fire and he barely heard the grunt of the Hunter as he toppled down onto a Marine, crushing his killer and the last human in the area with his massive armor. Red and orange blood mixed in the human's foxhole.

'Quarmee spoke into his transmitter. "That's all, people. Pull back to the structure, and we'll go down and find the first platoon." The Covenant warriors all started back to the ramps, all of them looking excessively tired.

As the first started to trickle up the ramp, the Spec Ops Elites and the Commanders began to speak.

"Why didn't we receive any transmissions from Platoon One during the battle? It lasted long enough." 'Quarmee queried.

"I don't think the signals can penetrate the layers of dirt, grass, and machinery without setting up a relay point to reach the surface. We had one, but he must've been taken out." Suddenly, Gagaw came stumbling up the ramp, dragging the body of another Grunt along with him. Oriné gasped in surprise as the black-clad foot soldier staggered right up next to 'Putumee and dropped the body next to his legs.

"I found this, Excellency," he spoke wearily.

'Putumee bent down and dislodged the transmitter/receiver relay from the methane rig. Turning it over in his hand, he said, "Good job, Grunt." Then he turned to the now-assembled Covenant forces. "We need someone to stay up here and relay our transmissions to the rest of our allies, and vice-versa. Any volunteers?"

Gagaw's hand launched itself straight up and moved around with lightning intensity. He was a coward, and he wasn't about to give up the chance of dodging combat. 'Quarmee kneeled down to the Grunt's level and looked him in the eyes.

"You do realize that this means you won't have a chance to fight if enemies await us in the tunnels?" The gold armored Elite said matter-of-factly.

"While it depresses me greatly," Gagaw lied, "I know it must be done. I will do it so all of these fine warriors will get the chance." 'Quarmee nodded, stood up, and made way for 'Putumee to hand over the device.

"You cannot attach it to your methane rig, but it is still useable." The Field Master gave the rather hefty device to the small Grunt, then turned back to the warriors of the Covenant. "He will sacrifice his dignity and possibilities of ascension in battle so that all of you can fight!" He shouted. "Now, let us go and join Platoon One in the tunnels for our victory over the humans!" The crowd responded with cheers, divided up into respective squads, and marched through a door and down a ramp to the awaiting first platoon.

After the last of the soldiers disappeared into the shadowy interior, Gagaw hooked the receiver to his head, leaned the relay device against the wall, and curled up into a tight little ball. Maybe he could finally get some sleep and forget today ever happened.


	6. The Flood

Chapter 6: The Flood

Oriné 'Fulsamee and his entire stealth unit minus Gagaw and plus two more platoons of mixed Covenant warriors made their way easily down a series of ramps and through rooms with but one mission: find and activate Halo's weapon to destroy all of the humans. Moving quickly, the descended the many levels in their effort to catch up to Platoon One and hopefully not miss the opportunity of seeing this historic moment.

After what seemed like days, the massive number of Covenant soldiers finally reached a large blast door. Field Master 'Putumee frowned.

"Odd," he muttered, running his hand over the door's grooved patterns. "Why did they shut the door behind them? Are they trying to slow us down?" He clicked his lower mandibles and turned to 'Ongyamee. "Your call."

The black-clad Elite turned to Ononn. "Let's see those access codes, shall we?" The Grunt nodded and waddled up to the door. He felt along the edge, coming across a small panel. Then he produced from his pouch a silver, oval-shaped device. He placed it gingerly on the door and watched it blink blue at regular intervals, then a brief, sustained period of red, and finally a permanent blue glow. The door slid open, and the soldiers moved through at a leisurely pace, full expecting a warm reception only a few human meters away. None of them noticed, however, the shattered egg-shaped device on the floor of the other side, nor the Grunt corpse that lay against the wall with a hand on the emergency lock-down button.

Completely unaware of the body, the score of Covenant soldiers marched on through. Oriné had a brief feeling of queasiness, but it subsided quickly under the Field Masters' mounting eagerness. Several soldiers chattered and gibbered about the thought of finding the weapon, but Oriné found himself being urged to the side of Ononn.

"Oriné," the small fighter said, "I'm starting to get a bad feeling. That unlocking mechanism took a little longer than I had originally anticipated. That means there was a reason for it to be locked down."

The young Elite considered this for a moment. "I'm sure it's nothing," he replied. "The Commanders think that they're trying to impede our progress just for a few laughs." Truthfully, however, Oriné didn't like it. It was too quiet.

After a short distance more, they came upon another set of ramps, spiraling down into the darkness. A wave of uneasiness washed over the platoons: they hadn't seen nor heard any sign of Platoon One, and the peculiar nature of the locked door was finally dawning on some of them. But they pressed on, determined to find the weapon at all costs.

* * *

The Master Chief plunged through the dense jungle foliage. Rain fell from above and made drum-like noises on his helmet. He had become overly disturbed by this mission: first Cortana's distress over what she found in Halo's control room, followed by some sort of alarm with the captain's situation, then one downed human drop ship and a Covenant drop ship, and finally this rain forest. He had been nervous about Halo before, but this was pushing his imagination.

He had encountered minimal resistance mainly that of a handful of freaked out Grunts and Jackals and the lack of Elites was a little unnerving. This looked like a major Covie operation, and no senior officers made little sense. There were signs of a major excavation and then what seemed to be a hasty retreat. And without Cortana skimming the enemies' battle net, he had no idea what was going on radio-wise.

Finally, he burst out of the intense underbrush and found himself standing in front of what seemed to be a bunker, but it was made out of that strange material like all the other structures on the ring world. Plus, it's entrance was just as wide as it was. _Possibly an underground hangar?_ The Chief thought to himself, but shook the uncertainty from his mind. Whatever it was, the Captain was in there somewhere. And he intended to search from top to bottom until the senior officer was found, alive or KIA.

* * *

Gagaw wrestled with the piece of equipment that represented the only link between them and everyone else, possibly even reinforcements. While he had been trying to sleep, it buzzed and crackled in nigh-impossible to understand pitches and tones. After a few minutes, he got fed up and kicked it. Then, realizing his mistake, tried to fix it. Now it wouldn't even hiss.

"Damn piece of junk!" the Grunt screamed out, and planted a firm foot in the side of it. He was about to curl back up and find his way back to slumber when the small screen on the side flickered to life:

_Central Processing Read Error_

_Error loading primary communications drive_

_ -Connection interrupted. Cause: interfering sub-spacial waves_

_ -Recommended course of action: reset primary energy conduits and restart beta wave amplifier_

Gagaw sighed, frustrated. He hated this kind of work. He never understood what all that techno-babble meant. Popping open a panel, he inspected the small keypad. Some of the buttons blinked impatiently, and he reached in and pushed them. Immediately the screen flickered, went white, and then came back to life.

_Reloading Primary Data Cache…_

_Updating Sub-spacial Wave Countermeasures…_

_Restarting core drive…_

… … …

_Process complete. Beginning standard startup procedure…_

_Welcome Major Ninack._

_Receiving multiple Priority Red Messages._

_Switch to audio feed?_

Gagaw hit the appropriate key and brought the headpiece around the crown of his head and listened intently. His eyes moved quizzically for a moment, then they widened in shock.

"G-Gotta report this!" He cried, and input the codes for the Field Master's radio.

* * *

Oriné felt a shiver run up his spine. The cool air didn't bother him; he merely brushed it off without as much as an indignant growled. But something didn't feel… right. There was still no sign of Platoon One. On the bright side, there were no more ramps. The two platoons seemed to have passed the initial descent into the tunnels, but it didn't seem to lighten the warriors' hearts.

Suddenly, there was a loud crackling coming from Field Master 'Putumee's transmitter, then the familiar voice of Gagaw.

"Commander! Commander!" The soldier's voice seemed high-strung, like the Grunt was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. "Excellency! There is something… on the command frequency that you should hear! Priority Red-One!" A slight murmur of questioning alarm passed through the score of Covenant soldiers. Priority Red meant a distressing battlefield situation, such as a retreat or overwhelming enemy forces. Priority Blue meant a general military transmission. Priority White was a code for something from the scientists. Priority Gold was a command transmission, sometimes straight from the Council of Elders. All priorities, however, were judged on a scale from one to seven, seven being of little consequence and one being of utmost importance. Priority Red-One was a severe, mass-important distress call.

"Put it through," 'Putumee growled, and immediately the air was filled with screams and cries of retreat. Plasma and bullet weapons fire could be heard sizzling through the atmosphere as the entire two platoons strained to hear the transmissions. Sharp, painful screams from Grunts and Jackals ripped across the silent troops, and the dying cries of Elites soon replaced it, followed closely by horrible retching sounds. The transmission clicked out of existence.

Talking suddenly burst out of the soldiers. The Grunts and Jackals nervously twittered and let out fear-filled screams while the higher-ranking Elites jabbered in their own tongues and argued. Even the Hunters saw this as a fit situation to converse, even with the Elites.

After a few moments, 'Putumee bellowed for quiet. "Listen! We have no clarification on the status of our other teams, but from the automatic weapons fire that we heard, we can assume the humans put up one hell of a fight. The transmitter must've gotten hit. Anyways, we must continue. For the glory of the Covenant!" A few enthusiastic cheers dotted the crowd, but most anxiously fidgeted.

The group moved on, finding their way through the winding corridors and more towards the objective. But the group wasn't in the same spirit anymore: many had sinking suspicions that Platoon One had suffered a horrible fate. The Grunts clustered into small, tightly knit groups while Jackals activated their shields and kept a close eye in front and behind of the marching warriors.

A few minutes later, they emerged into a large, almost stadium-like room that made them gasp. There were three levels total, the large group of Covenant only taking up a fraction of the bottom-most level. The dimensions of the chamber were close to 50 meters by 90 meters. On each level were a series of doors, but that's not what made the scores of aliens inhale. The bodies of the soldiers in Platoon One were scattered about, flopped one on top of the other and slammed up against walls. The blood and entrails of the many races decorated the walls and floors, plasma scoring running lines up and down the room and empty weapons thrown about like ash to the wind.

Simultaneously, the Grunts of Platoon Two and Three burst out screaming and began to run around the room. The Jackals quailed from the massacre that lay before them, staying close to the walls. Only the Elites and Hunters dared step through the carnage purposefully. To Oriné's surprise, there were very few Elites among the dead. Those that were actually there were horribly dismembered or mangled. Piles of the bodies stacked up, and if one wished he could climb all the way to the second level on some of the larger ones.

To the constant dismay of the Grunts, who were beginning to calm down, a group of four dead Hunters littered the almost exact center. Their eyes went wide, and they began to run again, but not before an ominous _thud_ sounded. Everyone stopped in their tracks and withdrew weapons. Suddenly, the air was polluted with what sounded like a group of ravenous mini-carnivores crawling all over their prey, teeth gnashing and a horrible gurgle combined with it.

Then the _thudding_ returned, but this time, there was more and it was more constant. They grew more focused, then bashed against the doors of all levels. The metallic stone portals bent and buckled under some great force, then gave way to an onslaught of bulbous creatures. A multitude of tentacles hung from a swelled blister that made up each creature. They moved with determination and an odd, water-like quality. They came pouring out of the wrenched doorways, creating waterfalls out of their tiny little bodies that crashed from the higher levels onto the unsuspecting battleground.

After a brief second of shock, the troops instinctively opened fire on these new beings. Plasma splashed across the masses of sickly tannish-green bloats, popping them under the burning force. These pops created chain reactions, causing ones near the original victims to pop, and so on. But the waterfalls were too great, and they quickly overwhelmed the scattered warriors. Grunts screeched out in terror as the wriggling bodies cascaded over them, trapping them underneath. Oriné could only hear screams that died out as more foes flowed from the halls beyond.

As if coming out of a dream, battle tactics clicked in the minds of the Covenant. Quickly they regrouped, with their backs toward their only escape routes. The Jackals and their shields fanned out and created a hasty semi-circle around the surviving warriors. Grunts poked their weapons out from spaces between the shields and fired. Elites, towering over the small foot soldiers, stood up straight and also let loose constant volleys of burning green and blue plasma. The two remaining Hunters, towering over the Elites, raised their Fuel Rod Guns and fired into the massing aliens. Ofoff and Rurut took up defensive positions and angled their shots to sail clean over the Jackals and into the crowds. At first, the odds looked in the Covenant's favor. However, the downpour of creatures wouldn't stop. Their weapons were beginning to run dry, and the mysterious enemies were gaining ground.

Field Master 'Putumee broke from combat to pull out his transmitter. "Gagaw!" he yelled into it. "Call in for the drop ships! We have to pull out!" The Grunt's answer was drowned out by the massive amount of plasma fire, but the gold-armored Elite was sure that they would be ready when they reached the surface.

Then worse came.

Mangled shapes dropped from above, landing feet-first against the smaller organisms. Some popped, but most moved in time. At the current distance it was hard to make out the shapes, but they quickly got closer through 15-foot long jumps across the room. Now Oriné could easily distinguish familiar features: they seemed to be bloated up bipedal creatures, with tentacles for their left arms. They weren't unlike the tentacles of the smaller ones, but longer and more deadly looking. Their right arms seemed to be normal enough, but looked pretty powerful. But the most unique feature of them was the head: it had the unmistakable, shark-like appearance of an Elite. Suddenly, the some of the pieces came together in the young warrior's mind: the smaller forms could infect, and the larger forms were a result of that.

"Focus your fire on the bipedals!" The determined Elite roared out. Almost instantly, the searing lines of light redirected at the oncoming jumpers. They twisted in mid air, landing with several satisfying _crunches!_ Then he made his way back to the Field Masters.

"We can't win," he growled low to them, "There's too many. We have to pull out!" 'Putumee didn't look down, but 'Quarmee stole a glance at the soldier before turning to the elder Field Master.

"He's right, we can't keep this up. There's no end to their forces!" he exclaimed.

"Don't you think I know that?" 'Putumee grunted as he lobbed a plasma grenade. "Ammo's running low, and the Jackals can't hold up their shields for too much longer…" Suddenly, a cry rang out. As the plasma fire struck enemy lines, the bipedal forms that had been knocked down were starting to get back up. Oriné let out an aggressive bark and the fire returned to the rising foes. Limbs were blown off and the beings collapsed once more, green ooze seeping from their skin.

Then, another deadly talent of the enemy came into play. There was the unmistakable rattle of a human Assault Rifle, and bullets pinged off the Jackals' shields. 'Putumee raised his monocular, then lowered it again as another round bounced off the energy barriers the bird-like aliens carried.

"Dammit, they can carry weapons!" Sure enough, more bipedal aliens emerged from the shadows, gripping human and Covenant weapons in their right arms. The Field Master wrenched his monocular in his hand, growling in a deep, guttural show of frustration.

"Pull back!" he yelled. "Back to the tunnels!" The Covenant backed progressively through the door behind them, turning and flat-out running as they retreated. However, there was another sharp whine, and suddenly the last of the two platoons to pull out of the room exploded in a hail of fire and debris. One of the Hunters fell, and the other, in a fit of rage, turned and ran back into the room. Ononn turned back and sealed the door just in time; a rocket impacting the other side. He punched in the full lock-down code and ran to rejoin his group.

'Ongyomee did a quick head count of his Spec Ops team, breathing a sigh of relief when he found out all six were there. As the mixed races beat feet to the ramps, they could hear the sounds of a door being blown and wrenched free of its tracks, and they knew it was time to go faster. Plasma and bullets peppered the rear of the pack as they made it to the chamber where they encountered the ramps. Ononn did an emergency lock-down procedure and they all let out a collective sigh of relief as the massive door slammed shut. But that didn't prevent them from taking their mad dash to the end.

As they emerged out into the slowly descending sunlight, they realized that theirs wasn't an isolated incident. Throughout the field, and presumably the forest, these aliens wandered, seeming to just move around without purpose. As they looked around the platform, they spied Gagaw, cowering in a corner. Pieces of the radio transceiver were scattered about, and another bipedal form towered over him, tentacles lashing the air angrily. This form was different than the other, however, in the fact that it wasn't so bloated. It looked emaciated, a thinner and shorter body than its counterpart. It was unmistakably human. A series of plasma bolts passed through the creature, splattering green ooze across the shiny metal alloy surface. Gagaw looked up and breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of his comrades.

"I couldn't fight it," the Grunt jittered as two of its own kind helped it up. "It trashed the transceiver and cut my Needler in half." 'Ongyomee nodded and motioned the warrior to the edge.

"How can we escape?" the elder black-armored Elite asked 'Putumee.

The golden-clad Field Master scratched his cheek thoughtfully. "We don't. Not yet, anyways." He picked his transmitter from his belt and opened up a channel. "Drop ships inbound for our vector: be advised there are hostiles crawling all around the hills and forest. We are grouped on top of Base 15, nowhere else. As you come in, please use your turret guns to cut through them as necessary."

"Yes, Excellency," came the reply, and not a moment later a group of 9 drop ships soared over the mountains in the background. As they came closer, Oriné noticed a rank of 15 Banshees flew along side their only hope to get out of the hell-hole. As the large troop transports drew closer, the escorts broke off and began strafing the ground. Blue plasma and green Fuel Rod Gun fire lit up the darkening landscape while blue-white fire erupted from the underside turrets on the drop ships. These new enemies were being cut down in their tracks by the attacks as the two-pronged purple vessels lined up along side the structure and opened their doors. As Covenant troops began to file on board, return fire came from the creatures below. Bullets zinged past, pinging off the nigh-impenetrable shields of the drop ships, one catching an unlucky Minor Grunt up the side of the head and sending him toppling over the edge.

The whine of UNSC rockets could be heard over the din of the drop ships' engines as two Banshees blossomed into potent fireballs. Oriné and his fellow Spec Ops members climbed on board one of the waiting transports, and were followed by a Major Elite, a Major Grunt, and one of the surviving Jackals. He couldn't tell which rank because the soldier's shield was missing, as was most of the skin on its arm.

With the last Covenant soldiers loaded, the drop ships turned and began heading back when disaster struck. One ship, overloaded with soldiers and under heavy fire, swung too wide and struck the two prongs of Base 15 that extended to reach for the heavens. The impact jarred the craft and caused it to drift off-balance, managing to wedge itself in between the prongs. A moment later, the unexplained blue energy roared through the prongs, melting the ship and all its passengers. The accident only made the ships accelerate faster. Plumes of smoke from downed Banshees coiled lazily upward, and the rest of the surviving escort turned tail and fled for the drop ship convoy. However, from below 12 rockets were fired simultaneously. Four struck the cockpit of one of the ships, effectively destroying it and sending the remains of the ship crashing into the forest canopy. Five blossomed into explosions on one prong of another vessel, exploding it and causing the rest of the ship to careen through the sky and crash into a mountain, where it exploded in an inferno of blue fire. Two of them hit a pair of Banshees, blowing out the bottom on one and the whole right side of the other. The final rocket missed its mark, its smoke trail spiraling off into the darkness. The rest of the drop ships and Banshees (count of six and seven, respectively) made it out without incident.

Oriné felt a pang of regret over the fact that they couldn't help the survivors of some of the crashes, but suppressed it. He had to live to fight another day, and that was how he was destined to live.


	7. Tactical Maneuvering

Chapter 7: Tactical Maneuvering

Apparently the new creatures were called the Flood, from data found in recently-hacked Forerunner lore. Reports poured in from all over Halo, originating from the infiltration teams and resulting in mounting fear throughout the Covenant ranks. Survivors from the incident were immediately pulled out, but the death count was high: well over 3,000 total Covenant casualties and the Flood's numbers were inconsequential; there always seemed to be more. And there were a lot more.

The survivors couldn't even be pulled to the primary base of operations back on the _Truth and Reconciliation_, due to a Flood infestation that plagued the ship. When the first team opened up the seals, the new foes in that section were waiting for them. Quickly overrun, the Flood managed to spring from every root and flower, or so it seemed. The tendency to possess Elites and Marines proved formidable, and the bulbous creatures seemed to be able to "inherit" the knowledge of their new hosts. With that skill, they were able to manipulate the gravity lift and enter the hull. Soon after, 89% of the ship was Flood territory.

Fortunately, there were some safe structures. In the Forerunner's data, three areas in particular were said to have been completely cut off from the tunnels that networked the ring world. It spoke of an incident in the initial sealing of the creatures. They had proved too strong for the doors to hold, and 3-meter-thick layers were used to shut them off from the surface. To date, the Flood had only chipped through two inches of it since their entrapment. These three structures were now under Covenant control: bases 5, 9, and 22. And that's where the six remaining drop ships of Platoons Two and Three were headed.

As Oriné 'Fulsamee and his comrades stepped out of the craft, he noticed what changes had been made. Base 22 had been setup as one of two major science labs, but had been cleared out of anything expendable to make room for storage lockers and cargo modules. At the corners of the hastily-fashioned landing platform were Shade turret guns, each with an Elite manning the controls. The platform itself was dug into the mountain, with the huge landform as its support. A wide ramp, big enough for a Wraith tank, linked the platform with the main structure. A second ramp on the other side of that went up to a second landing platform, where the other three drop ships unloaded their harried soldiers. The main platform bustled with activity as medical crews rushed to the aid of the incoming wounded, and ground teams assembled to quickly repair the remaining Banshees and ready them for another flight. The edge of the main platform was lined with what had come to be called "Super Shades," larger and more powerful versions of the common cup-like turrets. Major Elites manned each one, scanning the horizon for targets.

'Ongyomee walked down the ramp, closely followed by his ragged team. On their way to the drop ships, a few medics looked the party up and down before moving on to more seriously injured Covenant.

"Who's the acting commander?" Oriné heard a booming voice shout out across the main platform. He looked across to see Field Masters Noga 'Putumee and Ignil 'Quarmee strutting down the ramp, waving off white-armored medics as they rushed to the new arrivals. "I must speak with the commander!"

A golden-clad Elite emerged from the doorway that led to the inside of the structure and waved down the two Field Masters. The Spec Ops team caught up with them and began a conference right there.

"I just have one question: what are they?" 'Ongyomee asked, getting right in the new Commander's face, causing the golden Elite to shy away from the black armor.

"I believe you were briefed on the way here," the Elite stammered. "You know they are the Flood, and that they are overwhelming us."

'Putumee brushed past the black-armored soldiers and stood directly in front of the Commander. He was a good head taller and fitter looking, plus a little battle-ragged. "What's your rank?" He asked in an exhausted tone.

"Field Commander," the other gold-armored warrior straightened up, but still didn't quite meet 'Putumee's height.

"You are relieved of your command of this area," the taller said, "Field Master 'Quarmee and I can handle this outpost."

The shorter one started to protest. "Sir, this command was given to me by the Council—" 'Putumee let out a low, guttural growl, and the no-longer acting commander backed down. "Yes sir."

"Now," 'Quarmee interjected, "Answer our questions. What has happened?"

The obviously younger warrior sighed. "Since you've been out of radio contact," he began, "There have been a lot of incidents. In fact, 100% of the platoons sent to the targets reported contact with these 'Flood' creatures before contact was lost or the teams were overwhelmed. The _Truth and Reconciliation_ was also attacked by the Flood, and currently," he paused to consult a data pad, "94% of the ship is controlled by this new opponent.

"Our scientists were able to hack further into Forerunner reports and discover Bases 5, 9, and this one were safe from underground attack. For that reason, they have been converted into our new bases of operations."

He led them to the edge. "As you can see, precautions have been taken to prevent infiltration from the outside." He motioned downward, and the group peered over the side. Multiple layers of meter-thick purple armor glinted in the light of the last trickles of sun left on the horizon. Its sheen was new and unspoiled, showing signs of a direct installation. At each corner was a Super Shade gun, turning to examine the two miles of open field before a large forest with mountains peeking up over it.

"As you can see," he continued, "We are safe from outer bombardment. We have a plasma generator hooked up to it from the inside, providing it with constant shields. Also, there are Ghosts patrolling out of range of the Super Shades. We plan on using Banshees soon, but currently they are all to be used as escorts for incoming drop ships.

"Before you ask, we are presently housing only a third of how many troops we can handle. However, we expect to soon be full to bursting, so don't get comfortable; chances are you will be moved soon. By the way, I'm…"

"Gone," 'Putumee finished for him. "We're in command now, so you shall report to us. Now, get set to receive the survivors as they come in." The smaller Elite slumped his shoulders, then hurried off as another group of nine drop ships soared over the mountaintops.

"Get some rest!" the Field Master bellowed. "We'll see plenty of action soon."

* * *

The young Commander wasn't kidding, Oriné realized, about the space. Not even a unit later, he was shaken from his comfortable slumber by a group of soldiers. They set to work turning his previously private quarters into a bunk room, just so they could all have a place to sleep.

Groggily, Oriné made his way down a series of halls, bumping into a Hunter along the way. Instead of smashing him to a pulp, however, the blue-armored behemoth shrugged his sagging shoulders and shuffled off. Whether he had lost his Bond Brother or just became weary of the battle he was in, Oriné was glad that he didn't decide to take out his anguish on him.

After a few more stumbles and mid-hall collisions, but thankfully not with anymore Hunters, he found the mess hall. A worker Grunt, characterized by his white armor, handed him a rations pack. The tired Elite mumbled a thanks to him and made his way to a table where Rurut and Yarna sat. He dropped onto the bench, made a murmuring sound from his throat, and began to eat. His comrades did the same.

'Putumee walked in not much later, coaxed the three from their seats, and brought them to a small room. A long table, made of the Forerunner material, was in the center, Covenant chairs surrounding it. Yarna and Oriné fell into Elite-style seats, Rurut into a Grunt one, and were greeted sleepily by the rest of their team. 'Putumee stood at one end and rapped on the edge of the table to draw their wearied eyes.

"I know you're all still tired," the golden Elite started, "but this is important. Fortunately, the rations the mess hall workers handed to you, and only you, were loaded with stimulation additives. You should be awake very soon." Oriné could feel the blurring fatigue begin to fade from his mind.

'Putumee continued. "Our Ghost patrols have identified a Forerunner bunker within the forest two miles away. We must assume that it is an intact tunnel access the Flood has broken through. Unfortunately, it is out of range of our Super Shades and too far in to target in the standard manner for our Wraith tanks. Your mission is to install a remote targeting device that will pinpoint the location of the building for shelling. Any questions?"

Yarna's hand shot up. "How will the tanks bring it down? These bunkers have so far proven to only break apart under constant, heavy artillery fire. It would take those mortar guns at least a hundred units to crack the material.

"Good question," the Field Master replied. "But it has been taken care of. These tanks will be armed with high-energy plasma mortars, the best we could find. We estimate only three of these blasts to sufficiently collapse the target in on itself. This is precisely why three tanks will accompany you out there."

Oriné waved his hand as well. "How do we reach the target? Two miles is a long way to walk, even with stim drugs in our blood."

"You will take Ghosts armed with standard plasma weaponry. As for what you'll be taking," he kicked open a hidden weapons crate. "You'll take these." He placed seven polished plasma rifles on the table. He added, "These are 200% charged. You still only have 100 shots, but each shot is twice as powerful. Each of you will receive three double-charge recharge packs. Just don't let the gun get hit."

"Why?" Gagaw and Ofoff asked in unison.

"Because you'll only have 40 millicycles to throw it thirty-five meters in order to avoid the large explosion." 'Putumee said, with an almost smug on his face. "Any more questions?" No hands went up, and the gold armored Elite nodded. "Good. Report to ground level, and may the Gods bring you swift victory."

The team filed out and proceeded through corridors and down ramps until they reached a hangar. Oriné wasn't expecting it, but he assumed it was the work of a Super Shade: they had proven to be the most effective when razing human-held Forerunner buildings due to their ability to blow apart the strange stone-metal that they were composed of. The hangar door was cut very clean, making Oriné wonder if hand tools were used afterwards to craft it, but didn't get enough time for observations.

A technical Grunt waddled up to them. "Excellencies, your Ghosts are prepared," the little techie said, motioning to seven brand-new Ghosts that awaited by the armored hangar door. "And here is the targeting device." The Grunt handed a small mechanism that closely resembled a plasma grenade to 'Ongyomee, who accepted it and stuffed it into a satchel slung around his body.

"Let's go," the Spec Ops commander said, and the team moved up to the Ghosts. Each soldier hopped into the single padded seat and gripped the steering instruments. The hovercraft hummed to life and lifted off the floor, gently whirring and casting shadows from the headlights. The armored door swung upward, exposing the hangar to the light of Threshold. With a push of a button and the toggle of a switch, the vehicles roared off towards the forest.

* * *

A few cycles later, they passed the first trees of the forest and entered the supposedly Flood held area. They continued on without incident, but fingers always resting on the triggers. The Ghosts weren't standard like 'Putumee had said. Their turning was many units above standard, and their speed was almost intoxicating. Had this been a joyride, Oriné could've just leaned back and enjoyed the wind on his face. But it was a military action, so he remained hunched over to reduce drag on the craft.

Suddenly, they entered a small clearing. There was no sign of a bunker, but the Flood were all around. Plasma and bullets bounced off the surface of the crafts while their forward-mounted plasma cannons fired into the crowds. The burning blue orbs ripped through the air and incinerated the chests of their attackers, bringing them down for good. Those that didn't submit to the plasma were quickly run down by the front of the Ghosts, splattering the originally spotless armor with green ooze. But they pressed on, hungry for a greater victory.

After a half-cycle's time they emerged in a larger clearing, with a one-story structure jutting out from the dirt. A few Flood milled about, unsuspecting of the danger that just came to crash their party. Blue plasma lit up the night as the few enemies around burned with sapphire energy. Quickly the team dismounted, readied their plasma rifle, and moved to the entrance. It went down at an angle, round pillars down the center until a wall with a single door stopped them. Slowly the team descended the angled floor until they reached the final pillar. Covering the air with their rifles, the group fanned out while 'Ongyomee readied the device. Just as he placed it on the pillar, the door slid open and the strangest thing they ever saw: a large form hobbled out of the door, a huge bloated mass with tiny tentacles protruding from its flesh balancing precariously on two legs. Halfway through the door, it collapsed and stopped moving.

Everyone froze. Was it a new Flood trick? Nobody moved or made a sound for a moment. Then, feeling particularly brave while holding his rifle, Ononn approached the fallen abomination. Reaching out with the front of his rifle, he poked it gently. At first, nothing happened. Then the mass started wriggling, squirming faster and faster. Everybody jumped back except for Ononn, who was too shocked to move. A second later, the body burst with explosive force and sent the poor Grunt flying into the wall. Blue fluorescent blood spurted from the area of impact and painted the wall and the lifeless body of their friend fell to the ground.

A green haze covered the area of the explosion, shrouding the doorway. A handful of infection forms came crawling out of the mist, bouncing and skittering toward Oriné's group. They opened fire on the pod-like life forms, plasma tearing through their fragile skin. Shreds of flesh dropped to the ground, all which remained of the little monstrosities.

'Ongyomee hit the activation toggle on the homing device. "Base 22, this is Spec Op 8. The beacon has been planted; begin firing on my mark," he spoke into the communicator. A second later, the gruff voice of 'Putumee dominated the channel:

"Roger that, Spec Op 8, now get your asses out of there." The group turned and ran. Ofoff ran to the body of his brother and tried to drag him with them.

"No!" their leader shouted. "He's already dead! Leave him."

The Grunt whimpered a bit, but nevertheless turned and headed for the entrance. They all hopped on their Ghosts, Oriné sticking a plasma grenade to Ononn's craft to prevent any surviving Flood from having a mode of transportation back to the base. As they left the clearing, the explosive went off, and debris from the hovercraft rained down in the moist jungle.

At full speed, they cleared the tree line in less than a cycle, and 'Ongyomee pulled his communicator loose. "Fire now!" Three tanks up ahead, purple armor reflective in the moonlight let loose a huge blast of plasma each from their mortar weapons. They were different than the normal mortar shots, however, in that they were substantially larger and colored red rather than blue. They watched in awe as the humongous discharges soared through the air and over the tree line, energy tendrils lashing out and vaporizing anything they touched. The shots arced and fell directly on their mark and a large explosion ensued. In the light of the blast, the six surviving members of Spec Op 8 hung their heads in a moment of mourning for their lost comrade, Ononn, while Ofoff sniffled and wept for his lost brother.


	8. Firefight

Chapter 8: Firefight

Half-way back to Base 22, the six survivors had to swerve to avoid a landing drop ship. They stopped their Ghosts, but didn't budge from the seats. The door facing them dropped open, and the fatigue-stricken forms of 'Putumee and 'Quarmee emerged from the shadow cast by the vessel.

"Let's go," 'Quarmee said, rubbing his helmet wearily. "We'll brief you on the way." He looked up, stopped, and counted the soldiers.

"Where is Ononn?"

Everyone but 'Ongyomee and Ofoff bowed their heads once more. Ofoff let out a mournful bellow, sobbing heavily. 'Ongyomee was the first to step off his bike and approach the ship.

"Ononn fell in combat," the strong Elite said, "fighting valiantly. He will be missed." The rest of the team nodded and climbed aboard.

As they slid into the personnel slots, they noticed a slight modification: viewing screens descended from above them, dropping down to the appropriate eye-level for each soldier. The screen flickered, calmed, then switched to a live video feed. It looked over a snowy battlefield, large cliffs on either side. It was tough to see at first, but the image sharpened itself to compensate for the darkness of night. Plasma flashed through the air, and the roar of Banshees could be heard over the channel. Screams from humans and Covenant alike filled the air, while the all-too-familiar sight of Flood forms exploding and releasing infection forms dotted the ground.

"We have to provide backup," 'Putumee's voice crackled over the inter-ship communicator. "In the personnel slots there should be ammo and secondary weapons. Don't ask questions; just fight."

The ship lifted off, adjusted its flight path, and soared to the battle.

* * *

The drop ship descended too quickly for Oriné 'Fulsamee's taste. It nosed down and accelerated, something that wasn't standard troop-drop procedure. Looking out the viewport, the young Elite watched as automatic weapons fire and plasma soared past them, and he heard some hit the hull.

He leaned back and gulped. This was the first time he actually felt… fear. At least, first time since he got on the ring world. Their first experience with the Flood was a shock, their second too quick for emotion. But the Flood had proven that they weren't invincible, and that any moment could now be their last. Not only were they heading to fight the Flood but the humans were there too! That meant professional use of bullet weapons plus the newest foes ability to wield both kinds. What could he do?

He felt the drop ship jar, and a wave of heat passed over him. He took another look out the viewport and saw one of the most horrific sights he'd ever seen: human tanks, Scorpions were they? Two of them were driving around, mowing down anything that got in their way. He heard the explosive report of a third, and felt the heat wash over him once more.

Oriné could feel the ship swerve and pull up, scraping its lower hull against the cliff edge. He heard a great _clank!_ Checking outside again, he watched as the bottom-mounted plasma turret tumbled down the side of the cliff and smashed into the rocks below. There was another explosion, a heat wave, and then smoke wafted in from the connecting section that served as a bridge between prongs.

The drop ship spiraled toward the ground, smoke pouring from the mid-section of the ship. A hole had been blasted clean through their shields and blown a hole in the connecting area. It started to pull up as it neared the ground, but it only just barely made it. The bottom smashed into the snow, sending the ship skidding through the deep slush and crashing the front of the two prongs straight into a black cliff.

The doors dropped open with a clang, and vicious fire erupted on all sides. Acting quickly, Oriné lobbed a grenade in the direction of the weapons fire. The snow from the crash was still settling, and nothing could be seen. He heard it explode, felt the attacks lessen, and then began to fire in the other directions. By the time the snow had calmed, their attackers were smoking ruin in the snow, the previously-ambushed drop ship victorious.

Oriné took the opportunity to look around. They were in a different place than the video had shown: the area was much more wide-open, a small cliff and a frozen pond not too far away, but almost the entire area was surrounded by huge, steep cliffs. There was a canyon that led into the next ravine, and the Elite could see the markings their drop ship had made when it scraped against the walls of the cliff. In the opposite direction, the unmistakable shape of a large Forerunner structure poked up above the snow. And all around them, sides fought for control.

The snowfield they crashed in was devoid of human Marines, just a one-on-one battle between the Flood and the Covenant. Most of the fighting was taking place near the pond, and the group could see Shades and Ghosts along with foot soldiers trying to beat back the large number of Flood. The structure seemed to be a fall-back point for the Covenant, but he saw flashes of light within and could only guess that the war was inside as well. A Wraith tank fired blue mortar plasma that roared through the sky and descended on the large groupings of Flood. A pair of Hunters emerged from the structure, raising their Fuel Rod Guns and firing into the crowd. The explosions caught a few Covenant soldiers, throwing them back and snapping their necks, but the majority of the Flood fell. The remainder was incinerated when a mortar shot landed directly on their positions, reducing them to cinders. The team let the Hunters go first and then followed them through the mini-canyon.

Through the canyon was another ravine-type place, but with a large pillar of a cliff in the center. There was a very large frozen pond before a grouping of rocks and trees. Banshees roared overhead and loosed a Fuel Rod Gun at a cluster of Marines, killing them all. Oriné wanted to do that.

Directly up ahead in the rocks, however, were more Flood monsters, combat forms that used plasma weaponry to shoot at the group and hundreds of little infection forms rushing for the group. The Hunters raised their shields and in one motion each deflected the plasma and smashed a large number of the infection forms. The grouping of Elites and Grunts opened fire just as 'Putumee and 'Quarmee came jogging up behind them. Each carried a Fuel Rod Gun that they dropped near the Grunts and then, dodging a plasma bolt, pulled out already-overcharged plasma pistols. The targeting reticle turned red almost instantly, and 'Quarmee loosed his shot.

But the blob of plasma didn't go for the Flood. Instead, it swerved upward and struck something that hovered in the air. It sparked, sputtered, burst into flame, and then crashed into the ground. Smoke rose from the strange debris: it looked highly mechanical, like a human device, but far too advanced. Suddenly, more of them, but not horribly mangled, appeared in the air. They had a quiet hum about them as they swooped in. They had an odd majesty about them…

A crimson beam leapt from what could only be assumed as the front of the robots. It swept across the sea of infection forms, cutting them down in the blink of an eye. The first robot was soon joined by the others, and after the Infection forms were done, they moved quickly on to the Combat forms. Two of the bipedal monstrosities fell before the others caught on and opened fire. One of the automatons dropped compared to the entire Flood.

Before the Covenant could let out a cheer of appreciation, however, the robotic devices turned on the group of Covenant and opened fire. Their lasers burned through the armor of some of the nearby Grunts, making them scream in pain before they collapsed and slowly bled to death. Gagaw, in a moment of pure fear and anxiety, brought his Needler to bear on the robots, emptying an entire clip at them. One took most of the brunt, and exploded noisily, while a second was severely damaged but managed to stay aloft. All the bright red beams turned and focused on the little Grunt. He barely managed to yelp in fright before a laser seared his arm. Yet fate was kind to him; just then the rest of the unit opened fire and again distracted the robots. A hail of plasma burned them down where they floated, and wreckage rained to the ground.

Pushing forward, through a few more infested ravines, they reached the main conflict. All manner of creatures, from the humans to the new robotic "Sentinels", as Oriné heard an Elite call them, fought a four-way war. Bullets shredded through Covenant and Flood yet pinged off the metal of the Sentinels, plasma seared the humans and brought down the robots while barely singeing the Flood, who had both manner of weapons at their disposal, plus the ability to continue fighting even if their heads were gone.

Fortune again benefited the team, as they came up behind what could loosely be called their lines. Three Wraith tanks bombarded the almost constant onslaught of Flood and Sentinels, not bothering with the small band of Marines hiding behind a protective semi-circle made up of rocks, boulders and a tree. They fired every now and then, but from the looks of it they were scared and running low on ammo.

The Hunters broke off from 'Ongyomee's group, which immediately set to work dodging fire and getting behind cover. Gagaw leaned against a rock and awaited medical attention while Rurut and Ofoff were given Fuel Rod Cannons and waved to the front lines. A weapons locker lay overturned in the snow near the main group. 'Quarmee pried it open, handed each a satchel of plasma grenades, took a few energy packs for himself, saluted, and ran off to the front lines. 'Ongyomee searched through the module until he came across what he wanted: a plasma sword. He grabbed the handle and clicked the unit, watching in awe as it brilliantly lit up.

"We should-" Yarna was cut off in mid sentence as a hail of bullets came through the air and bounced off his shields. He turned, uttered a guttural growl, and shot at the humans. Then he continued, "We should help out up front as well."

In the distance, a Wraith tank brilliantly flared blue, creating a super nova and incinerating any poor Covenant near it. 'Putumee came limping back, clutching his side as it bled purple Elite blood.

"Ofoff…" he said, gasping for breath, "Ofoff… was right next to the tank when the Flood got it with a rocket launcher." The golden clad Elite waited for the news to sink in.

"I will avenge him!" Yarna snarled, then bolted for the front lines.

'Putumee looked over his shoulder at the shrinking shape of the Elite before turning back to the group. "I just thought that you should—urk!" There was a loud bang, and then half of 'Putumee's head exploded. A vapor trail right over Oriné's shoulder left a distinguishing effect of shock.

* * *

The Master Chief cursed his horrible luck. He had hoped to drive that bullet through both the golden _and_ the black Elites' skulls. Oh well.

The remaining aliens, all dressed in black, started to turn. The Chief noticed that the one close to his most recent kill tightly gripped a plasma rifle. He brought up his S2 AM Sniper Rifle and put a shot right in the bastard's knee. He crumpled over into a heap.

Satisfied, he surveyed his remaining opponent. One Elite was left, and the black-clad one lunged at him. The alien clutched an already-ignited plasma sword. Wondering how he missed that, the Chief rolled out of the way and sprung back to his feet. As the Elite began another swing, the green-armored Marine did something no other human ever did: he ran _towards_ the alien. With the fearsome alien momentarily surprised, the Chief made his move. Quickly, he wrapped both of his arms around his enemy's right arm, wrenched the sword free, and flipped the Elite over his shoulder. It landed with a thud. Kicking the plasma sword up with his foot, the Master Chief caught it, activated it, and drove it through the large alien's chest. It let out a cry of pain and anguish before going limp. Blood trickled from its wound and its mouth.

Plasma bombarded the Chief's side. He looked up and saw that he had attracted the attention of a small detachment of Grunts and Jackals, right next to the Elite he had disabled moments ago. The Elite looked like it was trying to get up.

In a single motion, the helmeted human pulled a grenade off his belt, pulled the pin, and accurately dropped it not six inches from the rising Elite.

* * *

Oriné saw the grenade land, and barely had time to exhale from the painful effort of getting up when it burst. There was no sound, no smell, and no pain as it exploded in a brilliant fireball. Life seemed to slow down as he was hit with the force of the blast. As his neck snapped backwards, he saw the Grunts and Jackals slowly incinerating, burning away as the fires obliterated the air around them. His eyes briefly met with Gagaw's, who was too far away to be affected by the explosion but not so far out to be spared the vision. The black-clad Elite felt light, weightless, as he was flung backwards through the air. He saw his own blood gush out behind him in a disturbing cloud of purple liquid. He felt like a majestic angel as he soared through the air, flipping in mid-air, for a few meters before he crashed into the ground stomach-first. His breath escaped him, seeming to hang before him in a cloud of snow before fading away into oblivion.

_I will join you there…_

Black void pulled at the corners of his sight, and he allowed it to engulf him.


	9. Daring Escape

Chapter 9: Daring Escape

Pain burned through the blackness, flickering in the corners before completely engulfing the void and burning away to reality. But as Oriné 'Fulsamee's eyes opened, the searing pain did not go away; it grew stronger. His vision was horribly blurred, and he could barely hear or feel anything around him. All he was aware of was sunlight beaming down from above, and the large amount of snow around him that was stained with his own purple blood. For an instant, his vision was perfect, and he saw bodies all around him. Slumping against a nearby boulder was Gagaw, blood splattered across the rock. Then his vision returned to its previous state.

The sting pulsed higher, and he let out a guttural moan. Suddenly he was aware of two shadows over his limited field of vision, a far off chattering, and the sensation of being picked up by his arms and legs. The horrible pain returned, causing him to yell again, but he was not let down.

He was carried in this fashion for a distance longer before his vision began to clear, and the pain begin to numb slightly. Soon, he recognized the shadowy blob clutching his feet as Rurut, and the one that had his hands as Yarna. As his sight grew ever sharper, he realized that each looked highly abused. Yarna had scratches and burn marks all over his body, and Rurut's armor was broken and chipped, and a gash on his forearm bled profusely.

The Elite looked down at himself, and possibly was the most shocked right then. His armor was non-existent, and his blood-soaked undersuit only clung to him in certain places. What was left of his exposed skin was horribly mangled, heavily burned and charred from the fire and shredded by the shrapnel. Blood poured from his multitude of wounds, running down his legs and onto Rurut's hands.

"What happened?" the Elite tried to say, but only managed a series of raspy groans. But his comrades seemed to know what he asked.

"We thought you were dead," Yarna managed with effort. "Everything else in that explosion was, so we considered you to be no exception. That human, the one with the special armor, he managed to destroy us alone. We wiped out his Marine support, and he still managed it. I don't know how he did it."

Rurut let out a despondent sigh from near his feet. "Everyone is dead because of that human. Right after the grenade went off, he shot poor Gagaw right in the head. Killed him instantly. Then he ran around, killing all of us. We only managed to survive because we were knocked unconscious when he destroyed the tank near us. He probably thought we were dead because of the damage Yarna took, and the fact that I landed in a pool of another Grunt's blood."

"What about the human?" Oriné gasped hoarsely. He could feel his strength slowly trickling back.

"Don't know," Yarna said curiously. "I woke up just in time to see him hijack a Banshee and fly off into the night."

They went the rest of the way in silence, each considering what just happened. Finally, they arrived in a familiar-looking ravine. Oriné peered over his own shoulder and spotted the crashed drop ship that had brought them here. It didn't look that much different from when they had first arrived, and Oriné could tell because it was still positioned against a cliff.

The group of two Elites and one Grunt entered the ship and found their way to the cockpit. It had enough room for the three of them, plus the already-dead pilot. Yarna and Rurut set the wounded Oriné down in the data officer's chair and then took their positions. The black clad Grunt hopped into the communications officer's chair (it was the only one that suited his species) and Yarna picked up the corpse of the former pilot, threw it outside the ship and then hung his head in brief mourning before returning to the cockpit. He took a seat in the pilot's chair, cracked his knuckles, and then activated it.

At first, nothing happened. Then it sputtered, coughed, seemed to die, then came to full life. The ship hovered off the ground, dampeners kicking in and smoothing out the ride. The Elite at the helm took it into a steep climb and turned up its speed as a heavy blast door sealed the cockpit off from the rest of the ship.

As the ship left the ravine, the communications console was suddenly alive with chatter. Distraught Covenant teams radioed in reports while humans screamed about some such thing or another.

"…the _Truth and Reconciliation_! She's going down!" A Marine squealed into the radio before it suddenly turned into static, then noise. The console cycled.

"…I repeat, the _Pillar of Autumn_'s reactor is going critical!" A distinctly female voice, sharp as that of an AI, spoke over the comm. "We need evac! Now!" The console cycled again.

"Clear the ring!" an Elite shouted. "All ground units! Find a way to get off Halo, or—" More static and white noise, and the console cycled again. The sound droned in the background.

"Well, you heard him," Rurut spoke in a squeaky, worried voice.

There was a brief moment of silence before Yarna's voice pierced the air to Oriné's ears. "Right. We'll take her out. Just hang on, Oriné." The Elite felt the ship ascend even faster than before, and soon could feel a brief second of weightlessness before the artificial gravity kicked in. The ship had made it through the artificial atmosphere without even a slight tremor.

A screen behind Oriné flickered to life and displayed a picture of Halo. It seemed normal enough, until there was a huge, noiseless, brilliant flare on the inside of the ring. It remained for a moment, and then a shockwave resounded through the inner habitat. It began to break apart, shattering at the seams. A large chunk spun and collided with another portion of the ring, breaking that apart and hurling debris into space. Atmosphere trailed off the continent-sized shards of ring, and Oriné thought he could see the shining bodies of his fellow warriors in it.

A siren blared a warning of an incoming shockwave a moment before it hit the small craft, sending it tumbling a little through the cold, black void.

Oriné 'Fulsamee was dimly aware of the cold, hard surface his near-lifeless body was resting on. He had been thrown to the floor during the shockwave, and more or less unconscious. He drifted somewhere between reality and dream world, but he didn't know of his friends. Rurut was slumped in his chair, peacefully dreaming of his methane-rich, colder than zero home world while Yarna 'Orgalmee fitfully slumbered while images of himself wrenching humans' throats right out of their necks filled his head.

They had been out for hours, yet none of them were aware of the incoming Covenant investigation fleet, nor of the single human Longsword interceptor that floated derelict in space not 400 meters from their ship.

Yes, they would live to fight another day…

But what day will it be?

* * *

**Closing Note from the Author:**

This was quite fun to write, and hopefully more fun to read. Only you can be the judge of that.

I know what most of you are thinking: OMG WTF but all Covvys are suppsed = dead! LOL!11!1

Well, let that be a lesson to you: never get so attached to your characters that you can't kill them off if your life depended on it.

Is this story random? Yes. Is it fun? Yes. Could PBS squeeze a public service announcement out of this baby? You betcha! This not only entertains, but it teaches people about the horrors of war: casualties, fatalities, innocents, murders, superiority, outnumbering, and of course the inevitable disgusting zombie-like creature that endangers both sides. If you want added effect, "no war is skill; its all chance and luck." To summarize it: war is bad.

Expect the sequel, _Negative Halo 2_, to roll out sometime around late April/early May (it'll probably take me that long to beat Halo 2 and get comfortable with the material) so while we're all waiting, I just might turn out a second Halo fanfic, or maybe even _Maverick: Fragment._

If I'm lucky.

**Closing Note 2:**

As of 9 September 2011, I've updated the format of the chapters and fixed a few errors, some grammatical and one canonical. Of course, there's no reason to read too much into this sudden new attention.

Unless there is.


End file.
